What if the lady from the Lakehouse was corresponding with a kid from Crystal Lake on Friday the 13th?  This is a Camp Kittenpants exercise written by myself and @ahm76

The Beginning

Dear Mrs. Forster;

I just got to camp and found your letter in my mailbox!  Thank you!  I hope your lawn does OK for two weeks without me, ha ha.  Listen,  I don’t know if that rhododendron bush is gonna make it.   I cut it back and tried to save it but it was really crispy.  Man, It’s good to be back at camp.  I can’t believe it was only last year that the one weird kid drowned.  It feels like forever ago.

  Anyway, I’m super excited.  I got here early ‘cos I wanted to be able to pick my bunk and make my lanyard before all my friends got here, Steve and Dennis and Todd and Mikey.  I’m hoping Angela will be here soon too.   I’m a lot bigger this year and I hope Angela will be too.   The good kind of big.  Like, tits. I have a six pack of ding dongs my mom gave me to share with my friends!  Camp Crystal Lake forever!

  Best wishes,

  Johnny R.

Dear Johnny;

I’m so shocked to hear that the camp has had two drownings in two years!  I’m sure you heard- last week, a child named Jason Vorhees drowned and his mother has been beside herself.  She lives on my street.  She was inconsolable and had to be sedated, she showed up at the police station screaming.  I feel for her.  He was her only child, it’s the worst thing that could happen.  She used to work at the camp, too, I don’t know what she’ll do now.

I am happy to finally get to know you better. You’ve been cutting my lawn for a year, and I’ve always wanted to invite you over for some lemonade and private chat. You’re very mature for 15. Very mature. I’m sure Angela will find that you’re big enough.

 P.S. Rhododendron bush?  I’ve been thinking of putting one in, actually.  You’re a clever young man.

 And I think we’re good enough friends now that you don’t have to call me Mrs. Forster anymore.  Call me Kate.

Regards, Kate

Dear Mrs. Kate;

   I’m 16 now, and I’ve been your lawn boy for two years. Remember? You gave me a portrait of yourself in a sequined nightie for my birthday. I don’t know what’s happening exactly with your letter, but the drowning wasn’t last week.   That kid’s been dead since last summer. I’ll never forget it, camp was cancelled and we all got sent home but my parents were already in Puerto Vallarta.  My folks don’t let me use the stove by myself, so I had to live on canned butterscotch pudding and pop-tarts for a week, and I still had some Ding-Dongs left over, so I ate those.  When my parents came back they’d brought another woman with them, their new friend Amy. Her lipstick was all smeared.  They didn’t expect me back for a couple more days I guess.  That was all a  year ago.

This year, things are going smoothly so far, but I’m a little worried because Angela and Mikey took off to the woods to go on a snipe hunt and they’ve been gone kind of a long time.  Like, a while.  They were holding hands, I wish they weren’t. Angela was supposed to be my girl.

Your Pal;

 Johnny

The Turn

Dear Johnny;

  That’s strange.  How many kids can be named Jason Vorhees in this town?  I didn’t think we had that many Dutch families. Snipe hunting!  I remember that.  Boys would invite girls to go snipe hunting, but it’s really just an excuse for them to get away from camp and into the dark to make out.  

Oh.  I’m sorry, Johnny.

 Anyway.  I don’t know what you mean about your birthday present, but perhaps if you’re good I will do some poses in my nightie.  Do you ever think about kissing girls?  How about women? Has Angela taught you anything about how a woman likes to be treated? Maybe you two can come over after camp and show me what you’ve taught each other.  I have some things to teach you both.

Regards, Kate

 Dear Kate;

OK, camp has gotten really weird.  Angela and Mike turned up dead.  Nobody knows what to do.  The counselors said it was an accident, but I saw the bodies in the nurse’s station! Both their heads were cut right off!  How can that be an accident?  There’s nothing in the first aid for decapitations. I guess you could stick popsicle sticks in their necks and pop the heads back and wrap the whole shit up in Ace bandage?  Jesus.  

Sorry, I’m really freaked out.  I want to call my parents to come get me, but they’re in Cabo.  Wish I knew the name of the resort.  I guess they go to Sandals a lot.  My mother says the mixed drinks are weak but my father says there’s no beating the price or the babes.

I’m scared. I’m hiding underneath my bunk.  It smells like spiderwebs and Ding Dongs.  I think I can smell piss.  I  think it’s mine.

Scared;  Johnny

Dear Johnny;

     Gosh, I’m sorry to hear about your friends!  I spent today at the lake, actually.   It was a beautiful day. I can really see why it’s called Crystal Lake.  On a day like today, you can see all the way to the bottom.

You know, Mrs. Vorhees is getting stranger and stranger.  She came to book club this week, but her dress was torn and she had mud in her hair and she hadn’t even read Joy Luck Club.  She ran out crying.

  So…do you ever wake up with an erection?

Regards, Kate

The End

Dear Kate;

Please send help.  I think you’re living in the past, I think.  Literally, like.  I think we’re at different times.  My time is pretty bad.  Please send the police to camp today, June 13th, 2014.  All the counselors are dead.  I think they’re dead.  We don’t have phone reception.  There’s no way to get help.  I saw a kid with an arrow through his eyeball.  His eyeball!   How is that even possible?  I don’t know what to do.  I’m hiding in a woodpile. I think I hear footsteps.  I’m sure he can hear my heartbeat.  It’s so loud.  I’m sure he can.  Do you understand how to send help?  Ask someone to come to camp in a year. Or you could come, bring guns and knives and kerosene, I don’t know.

Johnny.

Dear Johnny,

It sounds like you became quite the man at camp this year. If you want, I can come pick you up and you can come over and I’ll show you my bush.  It’s a rhododendron, like you suggested.

Thinking of you warmly,

Kate